Another Name for Prisoner
by greenlimousine
Summary: Beauty makes a deal with Mr Gold, but at what price?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I**

Beauty stopped for a moment to steady her-self outside of Mr Gold's shop. The sign on the door read closed and she couldn't see any light slipping between the metallic venetians that lined the windows. Gold didn't appear to be in – but then again, if he was inside he probably wouldn't have the lights turned on. From what she knew of him, Gold was the kind of man who prized himself on skulking around in darkness.

Virtually everyone in Storybrooke hated Gold – including Beauty. At least, she assumed that was the reason her thoughts boiled and her flesh became plucked with goose pimples when ever her and Mr Gold's paths tangled. Beauty was not an intolerant girl, she didn't like to judge, always making up her own mind about things. It was unsettling therefore that Mr Gold, a man she barely knew and did so primarily through gossip, was the only person she could profess to actually hating.

Swallowing her nerves, Beauty gave three sharp knocks on the shop door. She drew back from it immediately and waited to see if Gold would come out to greet her, or if he had headed home to the prism of a mansion where he resided when he wasn't 'negotiating.' The irony that a man who threw so many stones lived in a house full of stained glass would have made Beauty snigger, if she hadn't been so raw with worry.

She heard movements inside and Beauty braced herself for Gold's appearance. The man was intimidating in the least and Beauty tried hard to control the treble of fear draining her face of its colour. She had to keep a clear head if this was going to work.

'We're closed.' Gold said automatically through the half opened door.

'I know it's after hours, but I need to talk to you urgently.'

'It seems that we have different ideas of what constitutes urgent, dear. Come back on Monday morning.' He made to close the door but Beauty stuck her foot in the way.

'I have a deal that you'll want to hear.' Her tone was meant to be authoritative but the squeak in Beauty's voice betrayed how uncomfortable she felt.

'Ah, it's you, Miss French.' Gold replied. He slid the door fully open and stepped out on to the twilit pavement. Beauty was sure that he had known who it was the minute she had knocked at his door, but Gold feigned an expression of cold surprise regardless. 'And would this deal involve me absolving your father of his debts?'

'You'll get your money. We just need a little more time.'

'Tick tock.' he chimed, wagging his index finger at her. 'But what can you do for me in return?'

His smugness rankled Beauty and for a crazed moment she contemplated slapping him. However, she knew that if she gave in to her impulses, not only would Gold refuse to help her, she would likely end up buried somewhere in the forest.

'Could we talk about this inside?' Beauty suggested, subduing her itching hand. She didn't want to be alone with Gold and his collection of sinister knickknacks, but they couldn't talk seriously on the street.

'How rude of me, do come in.' Gold sneered and held open the door for Beauty with an imperial flourish.

Once she was indoors Beauty immediately regretted the decision. A crepuscular glow soaked the room making Gold's objects appear even more threatening than they were in daylight. An ox's skull, tucked high on top of a shelf, followed her across the room with its hollowed eyes as an army of ticking clocks swabbed each second, adding to her restlessness.

'Go on through to the back.' Gold commanded, as he shut the door behind him. Beauty's steps faltered for a moment as she heard him bolt the lock. 'We don't want to be disturbed, do we?' he said by way of explanation.

The back room was slightly less disconcerting than the front, but was nevertheless clogged with discouraging miscellanea. Beauty sat down on one of two deck chairs that were set out, while Gold remained standing as he addressed her.

'So, what exactly are you proposing, Miss French?'

Beauty cleared her throat and tried to keep from shifting her weight around. She had a suspicion that the chair she sat in was as much an antique as everything else in the shop.

'Well... I would like to work for you, until my father has repaid his debt.'

'Work for me?' Gold replied incredulously.

'Yes, here in the shop. I don't know much about antiques but I'm a fast learner and—' She broke off as gold raised his hand for silence.

'I don't need an assistant and I'm not sure that you comprehend the amount of money that your father owes me.'

'Please!' she begged, in spite of her pride and earlier promises she had made not to appear desperate. 'There must be something that I can do. The business is everything to my father.'

'Well...' Gold crooned, his face becoming darker, 'I'm looking to acquire a housekeeper.'

'A housekeeper?' Beauty puzzled, 'For the shop?'

'For my _home_.' he corrected dryly. 'People dislike me, Miss French, as I'm sure you are aware and I've had a lot of trouble finding someone... suitable.'

'I see.' Beauty replied, bewildered.

'But I'm not quite sure you do,' he continued with a sly smile. 'I don't just need a maid. I need someone who can take charge of my estate twenty-four hours a day. You must clean, cook, take care of the few guests I permit to visit me and most importantly keep your mouth closed.'

'I would have to leave home?' Beauty stammered.

'Yes, you would live with me.'

'And in return you'll let us keep the business; my father will be given time to pay you what's owed?'

'Yes, yes.' Gold agreed. He sounded bored, as if he had hoped that his request might have been met with more deterrence. 'There will be no formal contract, but as long as you continue to do your job to my satisfaction then I will keep my word and extend the length of your father's loan, indefinitely.' He toyed over the final word as if it was the punch line in a private joke.

'Then, it seems we have a deal.'

'Do we now... Are you sure that you understand what you're agreeing to? I'm not an easy man to live with, Miss French, and once our bargain is struck, if you try to leave my service prematurely then the consequences will be... dire.'

'When do I start?' Beauty gulped. Her hands trembled at her sides but it was mostly from shock interwoven with the overwhelming relief that her father was not ruined, rather than dread of working for Mr Gold.

'You can bring your things round tomorrow morning and take the rest of the day off until I return at eight o'clock. I presume that you'll need to discuss your decision with your father and tell the library that you're giving up your position?'

'You're right.' Beauty murmured. It surprised her that their arrangement would begin so soon and even more so that Mr Gold had remembered where she worked, but she supposed that he made it his business to know these sorts of things about people. Hopefully the owner of the library would understand the situation. After all nobody in their right mind would leave a job they loved to go and work for Mr Gold, unless they were next to forced into it.

'I think that I should leave now.' Beauty announced all at once. She was beginning to comprehend the toll of the choice she had made and didn't want to start regretting it while Gold still hovered a few feet in front of her. 'I have a lot of planning to do and I need to talk to my father.'

'Indeed, it is getting rather late.' Gold sighed, peering down at his watch as Beauty got up. 'We can discuss everything else you need to know tomorrow evening.'

Beauty nodded her head and tightly clutched the shabby shopping bag that she had taken to carrying around with her belongings in.

'Thank you, Mr Gold.' she said and momentarily forgetting the trepidation she felt towards him, Beauty placed a grateful hand on Gold's forearm. His breath clamped and his eyes widened larger than she had ever seen them – she recoiled instantly, unsure whether he was simply shocked at her boldness or repulsed by her touch. It wasn't a far stretch to conclude that Mr Gold was not an admirer of physical contact.

'Goodnight then.' she blurted and hastily turned towards the door before he had the chance to reply.

She stumbled through the shop front and exited on to the street. As the cold night air hit her, Beauty filled her lungs with eager breaths which became ragged as she came to a halt after no more than two dozen paces. The excess oxygen was making her head swim, but worse than that it had assured Beauty of her naivety in the promise she had just made. Gold may be a man of his word, but his motives were penned in double talk. Gold had some ulterior reason for making her his housekeeper. Beauty was not sure what it was yet, but she knew that she had to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

The sky was torn with holes of dirty grey cloud, as Beauty made her way through town towards Gold's mansion. She had been dressed and ready to leave since half eight that morning, but her battered suitcase and the bag of well thumbed paperbacks heaped in the hallway were a painful reminder that she didn't know how long it would be before she could return. Her Father, Moe French, was nowhere to be seen. They had argued last night – at first a simmering discussion where bridled tones reminded Beauty that her father's finances were no business of hers. Then, as Beauty remained obstinate in her decision, Moe had taken a bottle of whiskey from the living room cabinet and told his daughter that he was going out. It wasn't often that he sought a bottle of brown spirit and tumbled off into the night with it. However, when he had in the past he'd always returned home in time for a greasy breakfast the next morning, full of apologies for Beauty and assurances that he knew exactly how to work things out. Today though, as the clock fluttered impatiently towards eleven, Beauty was forced to admit that her father did not intend to say goodbye to her and so she reluctantly pointed her feet towards the door.

As Beauty approached Gold's mansion she almost stopped short in her tracks, mesmerized as she was she by the splendour of the place. She had passed it many times, but a lieu of modesty and the uncanny feeling that the house itself didn't like to be gawked at had always made her push on briskly past. Conquering her shyness, she now admired how the house's many window panes sparkled like crystals in the sun as it slumbered upon a bed of plush lawns. The walls were painted a delicate shade of terracotta which ran to pink where stripes of light threaded across them; it gave the place an unexpectedly soft touch. If Beauty was to lose her freedom, she was thankful that she would at least have a magnificent cage.

Following the coiling path towards the front porch, Beauty felt the return of the biting anticipation she had felt last night when she had waited outside of Gold's shop. Without the outcome of a deal in the balance Beauty felt more at ease, but she was still holding her breath when she at long last reached the front door. Her finger traced unwillingly over the brass doorbell until mastering her fear, she pressed firmly down on the button. A peal of sound echoed through what Beauty imagined must be a vast hallway, but she heard not a trace of anyone scurrying to let her in.

'Miss French.'

Unable to contain a sharp gasp of surprise, Beauty swung around to find Mr Gold standing behind her. He reclined idly against his walking stick and smiled smugly as Beauty struggled to comprehend how he could have climbed the creaking wooden porch steps without making any noise.

'Good morning, Mr Gold. I hope that you had a pleasant... walk?' she clumsily exclaimed.

'It was delightful.' Gold replied in a sardonic cast, 'But now if you don't mind, I'd like to show you around right away. That is, if I'm to have any hope of dealing before lunch time.'

'Oh, yes of course.' Beauty agreed, her cheeks deepening to a temperate rose. 'I'm sorry if I'm later than you expected, I had a lot of packing to do.'

'No matter.' Gold said. His eyebrows raised a fraction as he observed Beauty's flushed complexion in tandem with her modest suitcase and bag.

He shuffled past her and drawing a hoop of tarnished metal keys from his jacket pocket, he unlocked the door and held it open. Beauty nodded in thanks and tried to shake the thought that the metal ring, holding Gold's varied keys, reminded her of the sort a prison warden might carry. As they entered the clay coloured mansion, Beauty was surprised to find it even vaster than it had appeared from the outside. Nonetheless, it certainly wasn't neat by any stretch of the imagination and for the first time Beauty considered that Gold genuinely required her services as a housekeeper.

Starting on the ground floor Gold methodically began to take Beauty between the copious rooms, all the while explaining what each of the spaces within the house's dusty innards were used for. Most of the functions were obvious; they passed the kitchen, a dining room laid up with silver and a grand living room filled with mahogany furniture looking so uncomfortable that Beauty doubted anyone had ever sat there. Nevertheless, after they ascended a winding staircase leading to the first and second floors, even Gold seemed at a loss to explain the purpose of some of the oddly shaped rooms. Holding a tattered chaise lounge or misshapen lampshade, a current of amusement – an emotion that Beauty had feared impossible of her stern employer – passed between them as they surveyed yet another quarter impervious to an obvious use.

But as they loped towards the right hand side of the abode, Gold's pace became heavier and any quirk of humour across his face was promptly ironed out.

'The set of doors on this corridor,' he announced, billowing a hand to specify a string of doors knotted around the turn in the passage. 'Make up the west wing and comprise my private quarters.' He looked back at Beauty trying to gauge her reaction. 'Under no circumstances are you permitted to enter them. Do you understand?'

Beauty nodded flatly, a barrage of questions smarting her. Seeming to sense her curiosity, Gold continued.

'There are things in there, Miss French, which if you saw – I would never allow you to leave this mansion. And we most certainly wouldn't want that...'

More inquisitive than ever and a little frightened, Beauty kept her expression as blank and subservient as she could manage before taking note of the surroundings of the mysterious corridor and committing them to memory. Although she believed Gold to be boasting and doubted that the rooms housed anything truly horrible, it was obvious that her employer would be deeply angered if she mistakenly entered one of them. She resolved to try and avoid the west wing as much as she could.

'Shall we continue?' Gold asked when he was satisfied that Beauty had heeded his warning.

'If you're done trying to frighten me?' she countered.

'For now.' Beauty was sure that she saw a nascent smile upon his lips.

As they rounded the tour and headed back towards the tightly wound main staircase, Beauty dwelled on her increasing realisation of how carefully Mr Gold had been avoiding drawing close to her during their excursion. The memory of his disgust as her hand found his arm the night before returned to her and she reasoned that the gesture must have rankled Gold even more than he had let on. For when he stopped to find a second set of house keys, he tellingly waited until Beauty held her hand out flat before he would drop them into her palm. Even the risk of their fingers skimming was plainly too much for Gold to bear.

Apart from his perplexing avoidance of her touch, Gold's behaviour was roughly a kin to Beauty's expectations. He was cold, although she believed not truly cruel, cynical and had a sarcastic humour about him which Beauty was chagrined to admit amused her. It would be stupid not to be afraid of him she conceded, but although Beauty continued to feel a prickly abhorrence in his presence, she couldn't help but feel rather sorry for Gold. Hiding behind obscure antiques in his shop and burying himself within a sprawling mansion during the evenings, Gold seemed so lonely that he must have long forgotten the meaning of the word.

When they had returned to the front hall where Beauty's luggage patiently waited, Gold let her settle herself before meeting Beauty's gaze more blazingly than he had ever done so.

'Now that you are aware of what I expect from you as my housekeeper, are you still so willing to enter our bargain?'

'You've been very fair, Mr Gold.' Beauty replied courteously.

Steepling his fingers and pressing them up to meet his lower jaw, Gold began to pace back and forth like a cat who'd spied a particularly juicy mouse.

'Because I don't break my deals, and I don't _ever _let people escape from them. If you agree to this, Miss French, then there will be no get out clauses. Even if your father takes the next twenty years to pay me my money, then you will continue to be my housekeeper for that time.'

'Yes, I know.' Beauty gulped. 'I thought that we had already made our deal?'

'Oh indeed, we have. But I'm giving you one last chance... Beauty.' Gold's voice curdled around her name and Beauty recoiled with a shiver which seemed to stroke its way down each and every ligament in her spine. It was the first time that he had ever called her Beauty and recalling some fractured knowledge, she sensed that there was power in a name. The greedy pains Gold took in saying hers struck her as hinting at the authority he would soon hold over her if she agreed, once and for all, to their deal. Perturbed, Beauty realised that even if she had dared to use it, she didn't know Gold's first name – in fact did anyone? No one to her knowledge had ever called him it to his face.

'I'm not a good man, Miss French, but I'll give you a final chance to reconsider our arrangement and leave. It will save us both the trouble of what will happen if you don't intend to keep your word.'

'No.' Beauty said resolutely. 'I want to go through with what we agreed. I'm not as naive as you presume.' Despite her audacity she could feel her cheeks burning.

'If that is your wish, but don't say that I didn't warn you.' Gold snapped. 'Miss French.' He reached forward to take her hand, 'Beauty...'

As they shook, Beauty immediately felt her pulse quicken in his ensnaring grasp. Arm trembling, a dreadful nausea kindled in her stomach begging for her to pull away – but somehow Beauty couldn't. A magnetism locked her in place and all of a sudden she truly believed that something terrible would befall her if she tried to leave Gold's mansion without the intention of returning. But the deal was done and there was nothing anyone could do to cancel it now. Gold released his grip on Beauty's hand and she found that she was short of breath and that a throbbing pain splintered through her skull.

'Now we are all signed and sealed, as they say, I'm afraid I must leave.'

'For the shop?' Beauty choked when at last she found her voice.

'Yes, I will be back at eight o'clock. I will not normally insist upon it, but tonight it would please me greatly if you would dine with me.' It was a command, not a request, and it unsettled Beauty to be dictated to as such.

'Of course, whatever you see fit.'

'Until tonight and, Beauty, remember what I told you about the west wing. If you disobey me I will know – and I will not be happy.' His eyes flashed darkly and Beauty felt hunted enough to suppose that even if she had wished to disobey him, the mansion itself would not permit her to do so.

As the door shut behind Mr Gold, Beauty began a count down from ten. Reaching zero, she let the volley of sobs, that she'd been struggling to keep back, rip through her and fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. With dismay she discovered that she had none, but grazing a hand across her cheeks she found them bone dry – there was not a single tear to keep her company.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

Beauty kept herself occupied well enough for the rest of the afternoon. She rang the library and arduously explained why she was giving up her position there, before in time composing herself to try calling her father. When she finally input Moe's number into her chunky cell phone, the trill of dial tone blurred into the crackle of a pre recorded greeting urging her to leave a message. She didn't like to think that her father was ignoring her, but Beauty chose to believe he was still angry over contending with the probability that he had drank into the day.

Moving towards the window in the small bedroom Gold had designated her; Beauty slipped back the netting and looked down at the verdant garden below. The mansion had at first seemed pleasing enough with its blush walls and panels of brilliant glass, but all alone in its enormity Beauty felt uneasy. She was being ridiculous, of course. Already fighting homesickness in the unfamiliar terrain of a stranger's estate, it was enough to cast paranoiac shadows in anyone's mind. Yet as Beauty gazed at the quilt of daisy woven grass, she flit back to reality startled and pricking with the uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched.

To distract herself, she fetched a book from her bag and positioned herself as to allow the light entering the room to flood the pages of her volume. She read happily enough for what was nearly an hour before uninvited thoughts began to push apart the words – thoughts of the peculiar man who had made her his housekeeper.

Beauty knew that she disliked Gold. She especially detested his smugness and the ease his features twisted to a snarl when he said something unpleasant – which he did far too often, but through her initial distaste a springy tendril of fresh emotion grew. It was frustration Beauty at last realised, as if someone had torn fistfuls from the novel balanced in her hands and left her to make sense of it. Gold was a man with such brevity that he didn't even have a first name, he was a mystery.

At eight fifteen, Beauty heard the rattle of the front door followed by the musical tap of Gold's cane across the polished wood of the entrance hall. Unsure of whether he expected her to prepare dinner and even more uncertain of what Mr Gold ate, Beauty had cooked a simple soup out of some earth stained vegetables she had found in the pantry.

'I see you made dinner.' Gold remarked, as he entered the kitchen where Beauty leaned dutifully over the broth. 'You needn't have bothered, with it being your first day here.'

'It hardly took me any time at all.' Beauty chirped. The bubble of anxiety, taut with the knowledge that might she might have angered him by her impromptu meal, dissipating.

'I trust that you've made yourself at home while I've been away?'

'Oh, yes. The house is very... spacious.' Beauty replied scrabbling for a non offensive truth.

'I suppose that it takes some getting used to.' he smirked as Beauty cast her eyes back down to the simmering pot.

'Yes, I think it will.' she reasoned. 'I'll go and lay the table, it's about ready.'

'Please, allow me.' Gold interjected with unexpected courtesy before she could turn away from the stove.

In the time that it took Beauty to slice up some pieces of crusty bread and fill two daintily decorated bowls, she found that Gold had already finished setting the table and was pouring two glasses of rich burgundy liquid. From the looks of the stuff, Beauty took an educated guess that the wine was older than she was – hell, perhaps even Gold himself.

'Wine?' she speculated, 'I thought that I was meant to be working?'

The ghost of a smile wavered across her employer's lips.

'We're celebrating.'

'What's there to celebrate?' Beauty said curtly. She was promptly shamed by how ungrateful she sounded and set down the soup bowl in her hand, quickly replacing it with the elegant neck of a glass.

'The renewal of your Father's business.' He gave her a mocking sideways glance. 'Are you so quick to forget the details of our arrangement, Miss French?'

'Of course not, but there was really no need for you to go to any trouble. Not that I don't appreciate it though.' she backtracked.

'It caused me no difficulty what so ever.' He raised his glass to chime melodiously against her own. ' Here's to the longevity of _Game of Thorns_.'

'Cheers.' Beauty clumsily took a sip of the velvety liquor and seated herself opposite Gold on one of the handsome dining chairs.

Beginning in awkward silence perforated only by the metallic clink of overeager spoons, the dinner conversation progressed to a tentative exchange after Beauty trouped back into the kitchen to ladle them out second helpings. She found her limbs curiously loose as she steadied herself back down at the table and a boldness came over her which untied her tongue. She conspired to gather as much information about Gold as she could, that was before her courage drained with the headiness from the wine. Her employer didn't outright object, however his replies were weak and as she continued the inquisition his lips pursed together in a tense line. He refilled their glasses and before she could protest, Gold indulged Beauty in her own round of well measured questions.

She was laughing with a sunlight in her voice which shocked them both, by the time the rusty dregs of her third glass of wine settled. Beauty considered that she might have had rather too much to drink for an evening spent with her new boss but despite her trepidations, the evening had been surprisingly pleasant. Only for a moment when Beauty enthusiastically talked of her plans for the future had Gold flinched and shifted about awkwardly.

'I'm sorry that I failed to acquire another bottle, Miss French, seeing how we've already enjoyed most of this one.' Gold remarked as their laughter waned.

She disliked it when he called her that, Beauty realised. Miss French was too formal – like reading the header on a letter – and the way his accent had wrapped the word Beauty made her wish that he'd call her it again.

'I don't drink very often.' Beauty instead admitted, 'It makes me think foolish thoughts, and occasionally act on them.'

'Now that's something I would like to see.' he teased as Beauty's cheeks ran scarlet.

Suddenly the drone of Beauty's phone vibrating in her pocket snapped them both back to reality.

'Do you mind if I take this?' she asked, pondering the unknown number which flashed across the screen.

'Go ahead.' Gold prompted.

'Hello, this is Beauty. Who's calling?' she hesitantly questioned the receiver.

'It's Mr Anderson. I'm so glad that I've been able to reach you.'

'Mr Anderson, is everything alright?' Beauty replied, perplexed as to why the supplier for the shop was ringing her at nearly eleven at night.

'I was hoping that you could tell me. I've been trying to get hold of Moe all day, he didn't open the shop this morning for the delivery.'

Panic rising in her chest but adamant to maintain her father's reputation and not to alarm Mr Anderson, Beauty attempted to put the man at ease.

'Oh, I am sorry Mr Anderson. My father mentioned something about visiting an old friend, I suspect that he got caught up and forgot all about it being delivery day. Honestly, I don't know what to do with him sometimes. Will the order keep?'

'Sure, it's only some fertiliser and tools. I'm glad to hear that, I was worried with Moe not answering his phone.'

'He must have left it at home.' Beauty swiftly lied. 'He's not back yet but I can get him to give you a call first thing?'

'That would be great, Beaut. Your father's a lucky man to have you looking out for him.'

'He sure is.' Her attempt at a laugh reverberated back hollowly to her ears.

'Well I better get to bed now, sorry to have disturbed you so late.'

'That's no problem, goodnight.'

'Night.'

Gold had been sat opposite Beauty, stony faced and unmoving as a statue for the course of her conversation. His eyes which had connected with the distance over her shoulder, flit back and regarded her attentively.

'My father's missing. I have to go and find him.' Beauty stated.

'How do you know that he's missing?' Gold inquired.

'He went out last night and didn't open the shop this morning.'

His expression shifted to one of scepticism.

'From what I know of your father he'll likely be in _The Rabbit Hole_ around this time.'

'_The Rabbit Hole_?' Beauty repeated somewhat dazed. 'I don't think that my father would go in there.'

'Then it appears that I know him better than you.' Gold cut in.

Feeling the guile rise in her throat, Beauty tried and failed to stop it pouring out across her snide employer as she rose to her feet.

'You don't know the first thing about either of us. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go and find him.'

Gold's brow furrowed, his hand gripped white around the top of his cane as he stood up to meet her.

'Careful with that temper of yours, Miss French. And although I admire your determination to find your father, I won't have you blindly trawling the streets at this hour.'

Fury and purpose thankfully muting her, Beauty turned her back on Gold and went into the kitchen to retrieve her coat from its hanging on door. She pressed down on the handle to open it onto the garden but the lever remained firmly stuck in place – how strange, she didn't remember seeing Gold lock it.

'Beauty...' his voice rose up, dark and odious as a bruise behind her. 'You're not leaving.'

'And you're going to stop me?' Beauty challenged, turning around.

'If I have to, no good will come from you endangering yourself.'

'Where's the key, Gold?'

'That's my final word on the matter, so go and sit yourself back down.'

'I'm not a prisoner.'

Gold's eyes lit up and Beauty realised with contempt that he was struggling not to laugh.

'Call yourself whatever you like, dearie if you disobey me then I will make you pay. And if you go so far as to try and break our deal...' he stroked a finger lazily across his chin, 'let's just say that I _always_ get what I want in the end.'

Beauty paused motionless, she recognised straight away that what Gold said was the truth. He was a man who made sure to get what he wanted regardless of the price to others and after all they did have a deal. Yes, there was nothing that she could do if Gold refused to allow her to leave – that was unless she could find something to bargain with.

With that in mind, before Gold or her reasoning could protest, Beauty kissed him square on the mouth.


End file.
